Never Ending
by Alabaster86
Summary: Written for the Kataang Week prompt 'Hands': Katara's hands are a comfort to Aang.


_**A/N: So, it's Kataang week starting tomorrow, I think. I wrote one piece only. I'm here now and have the time to publish and it must be July 22nd somewhere.**_

_**Kataang Week**_

_**Prompt #1: Hands**_

_**Never Ending**_

Aang drifted. The world of memories and today, dreams and consciousness, body and spirit, blended and mixed. He wasn't sure where he was exactly. But he knew that Katara was nearby, watching over him, waiting until his journey was complete.

"Even in those mittens of yours, they were so gentle." He smiled that special smile of his, so open and bright, a smile that seemed to light up his entire being. "Your hands."

Struggling, he opened grey eyes and focused on the room he rested in. Katara was smiling too but her eyes, the bluest of blues, radiated such deep sorrow. She stroked his forehead before placing a sweet kiss on his cheek

"My hands?"

"Yeah; remember when we first met? I woke up and you were holding me and I knew that I was safe. I loved you then."

"I know."

"Your hands kept me safe. Your hands made me feel better. They soothed our babies and healed so many people. And they're strong too, just like you are." Aang coughed, his body taxed by the effort of talking.

"Here, drink this." Katara poured him cool water and he gulped it greedily, hoping that it might somehow prolong the time he had with his wife. "Good. Now lay back and rest."

"Don't want to rest anymore; want to talk. I'll be resting for eternity, Katara….soon."

She blinked back tears, knowing the truth of his words, knowing she had no power to heal a body ravaged and weakened by one hundred years frozen in the avatar state. Aang was of another time, a remnant, an artifact. So long ago, a boy, hurt and afraid, he'd run and survived the only way that he could. And somehow, whether by fate or coincidence, Aang had ended up in Katara's life. Every day she said a quiet word of thanks for her good fortune and the world's as well.

"Okay," she said, punctuating her words with a soft laugh, "talk."

"Give me your hand," Aang demanded with a grin. He managed to sit up a bit, giving himself a better view of his wife.

Katara obliged. He concentrated hard, staring at the lines on her palm, tracing each one. She giggled, couldn't help it. Such a somber time, death in the room with them, hovering, a black spectre, but the giggle was more indicative of their relationship. Aang laughed too.

"Yes, I'm still ticklish, even these old hands."

True, they were wrinkled now and darker spots speckled her tan skin. Some of her knuckles were swollen and stiff and no amount of healing would help that either. Time grabbed hold of everyone and did its damage. But they were Katara's hands and beautiful no matter what age or what condition they might be in.

"I remember."

He drifted again, further away this time, recollections of Katara and their life together hitting him like an otherworldly force; the first time they held hands, kissed, made love. He recalled their wedding and the birth of each of their children. And he remembered quieter times, talks over dinner and conversations, some silly, some profound, while snuggling together in bed, before sleep took hold. They'd had some spectacular arguments too, all of which brought them closer together in the end.

"Aang?" Katara's voice tugged at him. "Aang?"

"I'm here," he replied, squeezing her hand. "Maybe you should call the kids in."

Pushing aside her grief, swallowing a sob, Katara stood up and made her way to the door.

"It's time," she called. Her voice cracked just a little bit.

They made their way in, Kya, Bumi, Tenzin, and sat about Aang's bed, wordlessly saying their final goodbyes. He understood and felt their love and gave it back with a simple look, wide eyes shimmering with emotion.

Then he sank deeper, his past lives coming up to meet him, their years blending with his. Aang's grip on Katara's hand weakened, but as he slipped away, it was his final anchor to the physical world. He took her warmth, her love, her kindness, her strength with him, siphoning them off the tips of her fingers. That would have to do until he saw her again.


End file.
